


Remind me again why we're walking?

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Harry Potter References, Homophobia, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, but only from an oc who nobody likes, cas is a harry potter fangirl, first they hate each other but then they kiss, mostly just them arguing about who's in love with who, not sure if fluff or crack, not sure why i wrote this in the first place, wow that's actually a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Remind me again why we're walking?"</p>
<p>"Because your car broke down. We have no other choice."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>BASICALLY, Dean and Castiel are both volunteers that deliver food to people who need it. They also hate each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remind me again why we're walking?

“Remind me again why we're walking?”

“Because your car broke down again. We have no other choice.”

“That doesn't mean we have to walk. You've got a car.”

“You insisted that we should only drive your baby. This baby of yours, I might add, is only mostly fixed up, not completely fixed up.”

“Oh, come on! She looks pretty enough. Just because a couple parts in the engine are a bit corroded doesn't mean-”

“Yes, it does mean that you probably shouldn't drive it yet.”

“Dammit, Cas, how do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Read my mind. It's creepy.”

“I'm not sure if you know this, but you're not all that unpredictable.”

“Yeah, but do you have any idea how heavy this box is?”

“Yes, actually, I do, considering that I'm carrying one of about the same weight.”

“Stop being all sarcastic at me.”

“That wasn't sarcasm; that was honesty.”

“You're doing it again.”

“What, being honest?”

“Yes, being honest. You're such an asshole.”

“...”

“And I hate you.”

“Aw, I hate you, too.”

“That was sarcasm!”

“I don't care!”

“God, you're the absolute worst person to work with. Like, ever.”

“You're volunteering here, Dean. You can quit any time.”

“So can you!”

“I don't want to quit.”

“Yes, you do!”

“Why is this suddenly about me?”

“Because I was volunteering here first.”

“That doesn't mean I should quit for the sake of your comfort.”

“Yes, it does!”

“I have just as much right to help those in need as you do, Dean.”

“No, you don't! I was here first! You can find some other way to 'help those in need' if you're so great.”

“And so can you. However, since neither one of us seems to plan on quitting any time soon, we might as well at least try to be civil.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“...”

“Hello, Dean. How was your week?”

“Um, I was just finishing fixing up my baby ...”

“So you work at a garage?”

“Yeah, but my baby's kind of a side project. I spend most of my free time finishing her up.”

“Is there anything else going on that you find interesting about yourself?”

“Well, my brother's college loans are almost paid off, I guess.”

“Where does he go to college?”

“Stanford … Okay, this is too weird. Can we go back to arguing?”

“Why? It's almost nice to actually have a conversation with you for once.”

“Yeah, but it's creepy. You can't just stop being an asshole because you decide that we probably should.”

“I don't see why not.”

“Cas, please, shut up.”

“...”

“...”

“We're almost to Mrs. Talbot's.”

“Okay, what does she need again? Like, fifteen cans, right?”

“Yes.”

“Whose box should they come from?”

“I'd prefer to take them from mine, if you don't mind.”

“Yes, I do mind! If anybody's load is being lightened, it's mine!”

“I don't see why you're so special. If anything, you're the stronger one, from working with cars all the time.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Cas.”

“And nicknames will get you nowhere.”

“What? Now I'm expected to say 'Castiel' every time I want to talk to you?”

“No, you're not. I'm just saying that nicknames will get you nowhere.”

“Whatever.”

“...”

“We're still taking them from my box.”

“I had a much more valid argument than you did, Dean. You just have too many delusions of greatness.”

“What delusions? I'll have you know that I'm a very great individual.”

“Hmm, maybe the delusion that makes you think that I would sink to the level of flattery to get what I want?”

“Oh, my bad, you were just commenting on the fact that I'm obviously stronger than you.”

“I can hardly think of anyone who would argue.”

“So you've been checking me out.”

“I never said anything of the sort.”

“Yes, you did!”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this lovely conversation, we're at Mrs. Talbot's.”

“Damn you.”

doorbell rings

“Oh, it's you boys! I was wondering when you'd come by. Come in, come in!”

“You're due for … how many cans again?”

“Fifteen.”

“I wasn't asking you, Cas!”

“I was just answering the question.”

“Oh, you boys. Do you have time for a cup of tea tonight?”

“I'm sorry, but we have to walk everywhere tonight. We're already late as it is, and you're our first customer.”

“All right, just let me take the cans, then.”

“Here – there you go. Do you need me to help carry those?”

“Oh, no, dear, I'm fine. Thank you!”

“It's no problem, ma'am.”

“Oh, stop it, you! You flatter me too much.”

door slams

“Assbutt.”

“Wow. Assbutt. That's got to be the single most redundant word in the English language.”

“Well, you're an assbutt.”

“Aw, Cassie, you're just jealous 'cause she took cans from my box and not yours.”

“I was thinking we'd play fair and let her decide. And don't call me Cassie.”

“All's fair in love and war, Cassie, and we both know this is war.”

“Don't call me Cassie!”

“Don't call me assbutt.”

“Fine, Dean. Now drop the girl's name.”

“I don't know, it kind of fits you.”

“How does a girl's name fit me? Please explain.”

“I don't know … you'd make a pretty damn convincing girl if you grew out your hair and shaved a little more often.”

“I shave every day. I just have fast-growing facial hair.”

“Then wax it off.”

“That sounds immensely painful.”

“It's not so bad.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience.”

“...”

“Well? What have you gotten waxed?”

“I lost a bet.”

“And?”

“I had to wax my balls.”

“I think you've just scarred me for life.”

“You're the one who wanted to know!”

“You could've warned me!”

“I have a little brother. Scarring others for life comes naturally.”

“I'd hate to be in his position.”

“So does he … but he loves me anyway.”

“How do you know?”

“Didn't you know, Cas? Everybody loves me. Why do you think Mrs. Talbot back there was so glad to see me?”

“This might seem a bit far-fetched to you, but it probably occurred to her that we're giving her free food.”

“...”

“Oh, my apologies, did I damage your delicate ego?”

“Yes, actually, you did!”

“You must really hate people with logical arguments against you.”

“You have no idea.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“...”

“...”

crash!

“Ow! Shit!”

“Aw, was the heavy load too much for precious Cassie?”

“I tripped.”

“You tripped?”

“It's difficult to notice that the next section of sidewalk is raised when there's a massive cardboard box right in front of you.”

“And you couldn't just stay up because?”

“Maybe the fifty cans I'm carrying around had a slight effect on my balance. But, you know, that's just a crazy guess.”

“Sorry. Here, let me help.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Um. Thanks.”

“Now you just made it weird, Cas. Come on; we've still got four houses left.”

“Next time, they're lightening my load.”

“Who, the Gregorys?”

“Yes, the Gregorys. They're up next.”

“But they get twenty-five cans! That's hardly fair!”

“My point about your excessive musculature still stands.”

“Mmm-hmm, and the fact that you've been noticing my 'excessive musculature'. Is there something you're not telling me, Cassie?”

“Stop calling me that, and no, you just have the kind of muscles that punch people in the balls the second they see them. That is, they're painful to look at. They're annoying. Go eat a cheeseburger or something.”

“Hey, I love cheeseburgers! I try to eat at least one every day.”

“Then get a job in a cubicle somewhere or something.”

“You just find me distracting. Is that it? And you think that if I didn't work on cars, maybe I wouldn't be as distracting?”

“I didn't say anything like that.”

“Is that why you tripped? You were watching my majestically rippling muscles instead of the sidewalk before you?”

“I – wha – 'Majestically rippling'? Really?”

“What? We all know it's true.”

“No, Dean, we don't.”

“Go ahead. Lie. I can see right through you.”

“Actually, you're one of the most obtuse people I've met.”

“Obtuse is an angle, right?”

“And my point is proven. I would bow, if not for the massive box of cans that I'm carrying around.”

“No, wait, explain, please. I prefer to know the origin of insults used against me.”

“Obtuse; dim-witted, thick-skulled, dense, et cetera. I get the feeling it applies in this situation.”

“I'm not stupid!”

“I never said stupid. If I'd meant stupid, I'd have used a word like, I don't know, stupid. Obtuse just means that it's hard to get through to you, or that you don't notice much.”

“Oh. Still sounds a lot like stupid.”

“I didn't call you stupid!”

“So you think I'm smart, then?”

“I don't really know, I guess … You're probably around average intelligence.”

“Wow. Average. Glad you think so highly of me.”

“What can I say? Flattery's always been my strong suit.”

“It still won't get me to carry the cans for you.”

“When did I ask you to carry my cans?”

vague snickering

“What? How was that funny? I'm usually aware of it when I'm making an amusing joke.”

“No, it just sounded a little like … carry my cans ...”

“Dean, everything is not an innuendo, no matter how much you want it to be.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Your mind seems to be constantly on sex; that's what it's supposed to mean.”

“It is not!”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I think about food and beer, too.”

“I don't understand how you have any friends.”

“I wouldn't expect you to, o great mortal enemy of mine.”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Yeah, it does. I hate your guts, Cas, and you hate mine. That pretty much means mortal enemy.”

“I don't recall it being customary to give one's mortal enemy a nickname.”

“Oh, and I'm sure I'm the only person who's ever called you Cas.”

“Actually, you are.”

“Oh.”

“...”

“...”

“I think this is the Gregorys' house.”

“You can give away the cans this time.”

“Um. Thanks, Dean.”

“...”

“Do they have a doorbell?”

“Last I checked, no.”

“You go ahead and knock, then.”

“No, you. I'll just hang back here while you give away the food.”

“Fine.”

knock-knock

“Oh, it's you.”

“Hello, Mrs. Gregory.”

“You're late.”

“The car broke down halfway here. We had to walk.”

“We? You and your boyfriend, Don?”

“Dean. And he's not my boyfriend.”

“You keep telling yourself that, honey.”

“Ma'am, would you like your cans?”

“Oh. Yes, thank you.”

vague clanking and tapping

“I think that's twenty-five.”

“Thank you, Castiel. Get over your unresolved sexual tension soon, all right?”

“There is no unresolved sexual tension between Dean and I.”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea.”

“Good-bye, ma'am.”

footsteps back to the sidewalk

“How's your unresolved sexual tension?”

“I see why you wished to avoid Mrs. Gregory. I can't say I blame you.”

“You didn't answer me. Have you been having any urges to rip my clothes off and fuck me senseless lately?”

“Is that a request?”

“Only if you want it to be, sugar.”

“That didn't make any sense.”

“...”

“Unless, of course, you're just avoiding the topic of your sexual attraction to me because you know it's there.”

“Ooh, Cassie, are we a little desperate? Haven't gotten laid in a while?”

“If I was looking for sexual gratification, I wouldn't seek it from a bumbling imbecile such as you.”

“Prude.”

“Man-whore.”

“That's sexist.”

“How is that sexist?”

“Well, why do you have to add the 'man' to the 'whore'? Why can't I just be your average whore, dick be damned?”

“Fine, I'll fix it: Whore.”

“Thank you. If I'm going to be insulted, I prefer it to be in a gender-neutral way.”

“I'll keep that in mind for future insults.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“...”

“Why do you talk like that, anyway?”

“Like what?”

“Like you're some ancient god or something and you haven't visited Earth for a long time.”

“I'm named after an angel. Perhaps I inherited a celestial way of speaking.”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“You asked; I answered. That's all that matters to me.”

“What, not the fact that you just called yourself an angel?”

“I didn't call myself an angel. I made a joke, Dean.”

“...”

“I see my 'obtuse' comment is still accurate.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, wow, that's got to be the comeback of the century. Please, tell me: However did you think of it?”

“Can I go back in time and punch whoever taught you sarcasm?”

“I don't know; do you have a time machine or some magical way of transporting yourself through time?”

“There it is again.”

“What?”

“Your sarcasm.”

“I rather like my sarcasm. It humanizes me.”

“What do you mean, it humanizes you?”

“I'm not sure if you've noticed this, Dean, but a lot of people seem to find me a bit … strange. Using sarcasm seems to make them think of me as a real person rather than a creeper in a trench coat.”

“Well, your eyes are a little … blue. Maybe if you used less staring and more personal space, they'd think you were more human.”

“Oh, so you've been staring at my eyes? Does my close proximity to you make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I never said that.”

“...”

“Stop.”

“Stop what, Dean? I thought this had no effect on you whatsoever.”

“God, Cas, just – blink! Look somewhere else!”

“So it is making you uncomfortable.”

“I'm about to fall off the sidewalk. Move over to your own side.”

“Or you could just ignore it, like you seem to have no problem doing, provided that you don't mind me being so close to you.”

“You – you're going to trip again if you don't look somewhere else.”

“Fine, that better? Your heart rate down to normal? Body temperature average enough for you?”

“Please, like you didn't enjoy being so close to my beautiful muscles.”

“Why on earth would I enjoy being near someone as obnoxious as you?”

“Because you loooove me, duh.”

“You just overstepped a line, assbutt.”

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“I told you to stop calling me Cassie, and we both know how effective that was.”

“Not the point.”

“We made a deal, Dean. No nickname for you, no nickname for me. You broke it, not me.”

“...”

“Assbutt.”

“Stop.”

“Assbutt. Assbutt. Assbutt Assbutt Assbutt.”

“Congratulations, that's my new least favorite word.”

“Assbutt Assbutt Assbutt Assbutt Assbutt.”

“Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie.”

“Assbutt Assbutt Assbutt.”

“Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie.”

“This is stupid.”

“Okay, Cassie, whatever you say.”

“Says the assbutt.”

“You know, I'd like to feel insulted, but I'm a bit confused by the fact that I manage to be both an 'ass' and a 'butt' at the same time. Aren't they technically the same thing?”

“Technically, an ass is an animal similar to a donkey, so I suppose you're an ass's butt.”

“Why can't I be Sammy's butt?”

“Sammy?”

“My little brother. Chicks dig his butt for some reason, so if I'm going to be a butt, I prefer to be his.”

“That's just a little bit gay.”

“...”

“And incest-y.”

“It is not! I just like it when chicks are into me.”

“Which explains your pathetic crush on me.”

“I do not – what?”

“You feel uncomfortable when I stare at you or get too close to you, and you describe my eyes by their color. You even decided to call me by a girl's name – possibly to soothe your ego. I get the strangest feeling that things like that tend to make up a crush.”

“Maybe – but not on you. You're an asshole.”

“So how do you explain the obvious, then?”

“I'm not sure I need an explanation.”

“Why not?”

“I don't owe you anything.”

“Fair enough.”

“...”

“This is our next house.”

“Oh, yeah, that one young couple. Mr. and Mrs. Davis or something.”

“Yeah, that's them. They get ten cans.”

“Those ten? They're coming from my box.”

“You wish, assbutt.”

doorbell rings

“Hello?”

“Hi, it's your food guys.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I'd remember who I am, yeah.”

“Well, you can never be too careful. It's a crazy world out there.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Ma'am, would you like your ten cans of food?”

“Oh, yes, thank you!”

vague clanking as she balances them all in her arms

“Have a nice evening, you two.”

“The same to you, Mrs. Davis.”

door slams and multiple locks click into place

“Damn you, Cassie.”

“What can I say? It seems that no one but you can resist my good looks and charm.”

“Um, no, we both know that I'm the only one with good looks or charm here.”

“And yet, which one of us only has fifteen cans left in his box?”

“Shut up.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Next house is mine.”

“Do you regret not dealing with Mrs. Gregory yet?”

“Hell no.”

“I thought not. You can't stand her.”

“Neither can you.”

“I managed it just fine back there, and my load was lightened considerably as a result of it.”

“That doesn't mean you deserved what you got just now.”

“All's fair in love and war … and this is a bit of both.”

“Did you just quote Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows?”

“Of course I did. Ron said that right after he voted on Hermione's side to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood, since he just wanted to get on her good side.”

“You are, um, slightly less despicable because of that.”

“It's a large part of the nerd code. Fellow nerd-respect goes out to all fellow nerds. You just have to find them and spout some nerdy bullshit at them and BOOM! You made a friend.”

“But the quote obviously doesn't apply here, right?”

“What do you mean?'

“This is not a bit of both. This is not love. It's just war.”

“You know you love me.”

“If anyone loves anyone here, we both know it's you.”

“No, Dean, you're the one who's been staring deep, deep into my eyes, remember?”

“We are not having this argument again.”

“Fine. Let's not. How about this: Should Hermione have ended up with Ron?”

“Um, hell yes!”

“Um, hell no!”

“What? Why not?”

“Because Ron's a massive dick, that's why.”

“How?”

“He ran out and left right in the middle of the hunt for the Horcruxes just because he thought Harry and Hermione might be fucking each other's brains out behind his back. It was an almost completely unfounded accusation that they didn't deserve … and Hermione still took him back after that, and then ended up married to him, knowing that he cracks under pressure like that. Also, they had all these huge fights throughout the books; a major one was in Goblet of Fire, but there were too many trivial ones to count. They must have the rockiest marriage ever.”

“That's dumb. Ron turned out to be a pretty damn loyal friend in the end. And maybe they did fight, but every couple fights. It's normal. And you know, when people fight like that, it's often disguised flirting.”

“So she'd be flirting with her husband for the rest of her life, leaving their kids … where, exactly?”

“A little confused about their parents' fighting, that's all.”

“Mmm-hmm, and what happens when they have the fight of the century and Ron runs off because he's a paranoid dick? Do they just watch their mum cry her eyes out and feed themselves?”

“Cas – you're being dumb. Maybe Ron and Hermione do fight, but they love each other, and that's what matters.”

“No, that's not what matters. I've loved several different people, but I never ended up married to any of them. Why? Because we were nothing alike, that's why.”

“Opposites attract, dumbass. Everybody knows that.”

“And how, exactly, is a marriage supposed to succeed when the couple have different religions, political parties, ways they want to raise their kids? Everybody says opposites attract because the couples that are most similar tend to fight a lot. Why? Because it's over the little stuff. Maybe they don't ship all the same ships, but they're members of the same fandom in the end.”

“You lost me with the tumblr-speak, Cassie.”

“You know – ship. Like, want the same couple to just give in and make out already. And fandom … the same movie, or book, or series, or TV show, or whatever.”

“You mean like Ron and Hermione in the Harry Potter fandom.”

“Yeah, just like that. Personally, I ship Hermione with Ginny, but I'm always up for a new ship. I've read a lot of fics with Dramione or Harmony in them, too.”

“Wait … what? Fics? Dramione? Harmony?”

“Fics are, you know, fanfiction. Dramione is Draco and Hermione, and Harmony is Harry and Hermione.”

“What? How? But Harry has Ginny and Draco is … Draco.”

“That's called ship wars.”

“Wait...”

“What?”

“We ship different ships but we're both part of the same fandom...”

“You're twisting my words.”

“You know you want all this.”

“You can't look sexy while holding a box mostly full of cans.”

“I think I'm pulling it off pretty well.”

“Stop making that dumb face.”

“This is my sexy face.”

“Then you must have little to no sex appeal whatsoever.”

“Says the guy who's totally crushing on my beautiful muscles.”

“You're the one who wears those annoyingly tight T-shirts all the time.”

“Two words, Cassie: Look. Away.”

“Four words, assbutt: Don't. Show. Them. Off.”

“Yeah, and what do you call being all up in my face all the time with your creepy eyes? Like, are you sure you're not working for Loki?”

“Hey, don't diss Loki. If I had to work for any supervillain, it'd be Loki.”

“Why?”

“Um, have you seen Tom Hiddleston? Like, ever?”

“So you'll gladly crush on a guy who wants to destroy the world, but not me, your friendly neighborhood sex god?”

“Loki is a sex god. You're just some guy who happens to have a few muscles.”

“Oh, honey, they're in all the right places.”

“I never want to hear you say that again.”

“Oh, honey, they're in all the right places..”

“You know what I call guys who act like that?”

“What, sluts?”

“No, overcompensating.”

“Over – Are you saying you think I have a tiny dick?”

“I'd call it more of a tic-tac.”

“Hey, now, that's just rude. Now I'm offended.”

“It's okay, Dean. Your secret's safe with me.”

“...”

“...”

“Now you're going to go around telling everyone I have a small dick, aren't you?”

“Hell yes.”

“They're going to ask how you know.”

“I'm going to say I walked in on you masturbating.”

“What? Where?”

“Hmm … I'm not sure yet. Maybe a public bathroom someplace.”

“Ew! I would at least lock the stall door.”

“And be completely silent the whole time?”

“We are not discussing how vocal I am during sex.”

“Actually, we are.”

“You're an ass.”

“Believe me, I try … Ooh, maybe it's not a public bathroom. Maybe you had to piss badly enough that you asked to use somebody's bathroom, but you took way too long, so I went after you and the door was unlocked and there you were, rubbing your tic-tac.”

“I'm done discussing this.”

“So you say. However, I'm convinced that you're overcompensating, and there's nothing you can do about it.”

“What if I just flash my dick at you?”

“We're in public.”

“But what if I did?”

“I'd have you arrested for public indecency or rape or something.”

“That's … Yeah, you could probably pull that off.”

“I know I could pull it off.”

“But what if it wasn't in public?”

“Attempted rape, assbutt.”

“Oh. Then I'd just seem more guilty.”

“Exactly.”

“...”

“...”

“I think that the Johnsons' house is coming up.”

“Yeah, that's it.”

“Okay … since I'm down to fifteen, you can go ahead and give them the twenty cans.”

“Then I'll have fifteen, and we'll be even for the first time all night.”

“Wow. Impressive. I'll wait on the sidewalk.”

ding-dong

“Who're you?”

“Can you get your dad for me?”

“Um, yeah … Dad? There's a guy here with a big box.”

“Kylie, I told you to stop answering the door … Oh! Dean! You have the cans?”

“Yeah … here.”

“Thanks.”

cans clanking against one another

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Johnson.”

“You too, Mr. Winchester.”

door slams

“Hey, you'll never believe what just happened.”

“What is it, Dean?”

“His little girl just answered the door.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“He let her answer the door?”

“No, but he still didn't get there before she did.”

“What kind of parenting is that?”

“Apparently, Johnson parenting.”

“Well, you can't really blame him. He is a single dad with two children, after all.”

“That's no excuse! You don't just let your kid answer the door!”

“It didn't sound like he let her.”

“Still. You don't just do that.”

“Do what? Let your kids out of your sight?”

“Um...”

“Dean, you have some pretty unrealistic parenting expectations.”

“Whatever.”

“You only say things like 'whatever' or 'shut up' when you know you're defeated.”

“Stop being so … insightful.”

“Does it make you feel insignificant or transparent?”

“No, it just pisses me off.”

“Because it's the truth?”

“No – yes! Yes, because it's the truth. I hate truth.”

“You hate truth?”

“I'm not sure if you've noticed this, Cas, but I'm a hell of a liar.”

“I seem to have missed you telling me about that. Why? What have you lied to me about that I think is the truth?”

“Not much … except … I was, like, ninety percent sure that the Impala was going to break down sometime today.”

“What? Are you telling me that you intended for this to happen?”

“No! I was just being stupid, and I was really proud of her for coming so far, so … I decided that I could deal with it.”

“You could deal with it? What about me? You're the overly muscled one. I'm tired! The sun's starting to go down! I have work in the morning!”

“I guess an apology would sound pretty lame at this point ...”

“Yes, it damn well would!”

“But … sorry.”

“Dean, I have a car. I could've driven us around.”

“I know, but I just wanted ...”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I guess there's really no point getting pissed at you now, since we've got a pretty long walk back.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Don't thank me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“...”

tires squealing

“Holy shit!”

falling backwards

landing with a loud thunk

“What the hell was that?”

“I wasn't really watching where I was going, sorry.”

“Sorry? Dean, you almost got hit by a car!”

“Oops?”

“You need to watch where you're going when you're beside an intersection like that! It's simple logic!”

“Um … Could you maybe let go of me now?”

“I didn't mean for you to land on top of me.”

“Right. Let go.”

standing up and brushing off leaves and grass

“Cas … Why'd you grab me?”

“Because I have this thing where I don't want anyone to die when I could've easily done something about it.”

“Right.”

picking up cans and dumping them into their respective boxes

“Thanks.”

“Don't thank me. Watch where you're going.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Doesn't the driver even know that there's a stop sign there for a reason, or that pedestrians have the right of way? Everybody knows that. How dumb did he have to be to just keep going like that?”

“Pretty dumb, I guess.”

“And even if he's going to keep going, how exactly did he miss the guy walking across the street right in front of him? You're not exactly scrawny, Dean. And the streetlights just turned on a few minutes ago. You were practically in a spotlight. How did he not see you?”

“Um.”

“Seriously, he just about ran you over. Why aren't you mad? You should be pretty mad.”

“I'm just not, I guess. It was an honest mistake.”

“Are you saying that almost running you over was an 'honest mistake'? No! For all you know, that car had a drunk driver or something!”

“Cas, relax.”

“Right.”

“I'm not dead, see? I'm fine. You somehow managed to land us in the grass. Nobody got hurt.”

“Yeah, okay. Just – don't do that again.”

“I dunno. I really like walking in front of moving cars when I'm bored.”

“Dean!”

“Too soon?”

“Too soon.”

“...”

“...”

“There's Mr. Sean's house.”

“God, I hate this guy.”

“You and everybody else on the street.”

“He never shuts up about anything he even remotely cares about.”

“He's lived here since before I was a kid. I lived across the street from him.”

“Ouch.”

“He tried to beat me up when he first found out I had a boyfriend. I was in seventh grade.”

“You're kidding!”

“I'm not! He broke my nose, right on my own front lawn, trying to 'beat the gay out of me' or something. I have no idea why he cared so much. My parents were fine with it.”

“No, wait – you're actually gay?”

“Why do you think he hates me so much?”

“I thought he was just your average asshole.”

“Well, yeah, that, too. But ever since my dad called the cops on him, he's had a personal vendetta against me.”

“Good thing he's decided he doesn't need us to deliver him food anymore.”

“I know. I wish it stopped right away, but for some reason he deserves one final bonus delivery.”

“Can we just dump it on his doorstep and run?”

“What, you think I'm going to miss this final opportunity to piss him off?”

“Is it bad that the thought of you getting revenge makes me a little nervous?”

“No.”

“I'm serious. If you think you're never going to see the guy again, what do you think you can get away with?”

“I've got a few ideas.”

“Cas.”

“Don't do that intensely staring thing, Dean. That's my job.”

“You're not going to hurt this guy, are you?”

“What? No!”

“Well, I just thought ...”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who would beat up somebody old enough to be my grandfather?”

“I'm not going to answer that.”

“Dean.”

“Sorry.”

“No – we're here.”

knocking on door

vague shuffling inside the house

“Oh – it's you two.”

“We, um, brought your cans of food, Mr. Sean.”

“It's about time. You two are a half an hour late. Did you waste time fornicating?”

“No! Cas is not my boyfriend!”

“I see you've developed a false name for him.”

“Please, just take the food.”

both set down their respective boxes

“I don't want my meals to be contaminated by fags such as yourselves.”

“Damn it, it's not contaminated!”

“It must be – after all, you two have been carrying it around for God knows how long.”

“For a man who claims to be such a strongly religious man, you certainly don't have anything against taking the Lord's name in vain.”

“Did I ask for your advice, you little fairy?”

“I'm taller than you.”

“But your sin says otherwise.”

“Cas, can we just go?”

“Okay, just let me ...”

and in that moment, with the creepy old homophobe watching and the sun sinking behind the hills, Castiel made one smooth movement that managed to turn toward Dean, grab the front of his jacket, and pull him in for one hard, long, and thoroughly unexpected kiss

“GET YOUR SINS OFF MY PROPERTY!”

“You know, most guys who pay as much attention to gays as you do are gay themselves.”

“How dare you – accusing someone like me – Get out!”

“Yes, sir.”

walking back to the sidewalk

front door slams shut

“Okay, Cas, what the hell was that?”

“That was sweet, sweet revenge.”

“No, I mean – Do you not realize that you just kissed me?”

“Yes, I noticed, thank you.”

“But – you could've, I don't know, warned me?”

“That would've spoiled it.”

“I just don't get it.”

“The expression on your face may be the funniest thing I've seen in quite a long time.”

“But I still don't-”

“Dean. Stop. It's over.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Cas … I hate to interrupt your intense facial expression, but you do realize that I plan on getting home to sleep tonight, right?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I used to live on this street. See the way it just ends a little ways from here and there's just woods beyond?”

“Last I checked, those aren't the way back home.”

“Last I checked, they are.”

“You're not serious.”

“Do I look like I'm joking?”

“I'm not entirely sure. We're between streetlights.”

“Well, it's not far if you cut straight through the woods. There's a bit of a path worn into the dirt. It ends right at the edge of the Subway parking lot.”

“My apartment isn't far from there.”

“Exactly. Neither is mine.”

“I don't have a flashlight.”

“I must've walked that path a million times as a kid. I don't need a flashlight.”

“Well, for the sake of my not-dying-tonight, I'm not going back there without a flashlight.”

“Dean, it's the quickest way back.”

“What about my baby?”

“What about your car?”

“She can't sit there all night.”

“Your car – an inanimate object without a gender or feelings, I might remind you – will survive the night alone.”

“But I have to get back to her.”

“And what, drag it home? Dean, that road is pretty much the scenic route. It's five miles long. The path through the woods is barely a quarter of a mile.”

“The answer is no.”

“You're coming with me.”

“I am not!”

“Aw, do you need me to hold your hand?”

“... No ...”

“Suit yourself. Let me know if you get scared.”

“You're a dick. One massive dick.”

“Then you can go ahead and suck me.”

“You know this is past awkward and into rapist-y, right?”

“Dean. Relax. I promise not to shove it up your ass out in the wild where nobody will ever hear your screams.”

“We're not going into the woods.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we're not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we're not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we're not.”

“You do realize that you just followed me into the woods, right?”

“Shit! Shit! Cas, we're leaving! Right now!”

“Don't worry. You'll be fine.”

“No, I won't!”

“Calm down, Dean.”

“Then stop walking!”

“If I stop walking, the monsters are gonna get us.”

“Damn it, Cas. Now I have to follow you.”

“That's fine, so long as you stop breathing down my neck.”

“I don't wanna lose you.”

“Now who's desperately in love?”

“It's – I – I just have certain self-preservation instincts. One of the fundamental rules of being a human is, if you're in a horror movie-like environment, you don't lose track of whoever you're with, otherwise one of you is doomed to wind up dead.”

“You're just begging me to hold your hand, aren't you?”

“No!”

“Good.”

“...”

“...”

“Oh, shit! What was that?”

“You may not have seen it before. It's an elusive, highly dangerous creature that seems to thrive in this part of the woods. If you're not careful, it'll drop out of the branches above your head and land right on you. If you're really unlucky, it'll split your head in two!”

“I don't know why I'm talking to you.”

“Because I'm here.”

“I almost wish you weren't.”

“...”

“No, but seriously, what was that thing?”

“A squirrel, Dean. Breathe.”

“Oh.”

“...”

“Are we there yet?”

“Shut up.”

“...”

“...”

“Cas. Talk to me.”

“...”

“Cas.”

“...”

“Cas.”

“...”

“Cas. Cas. Cas.”

“...”

“Cas. Castiel. Castiel. Cas. Cas. Cassie. Cassandra.”

“...”

“Cas. Cas. Cas. Caaaaaaaaas.”

“...”

“C'mon, man. Talk to me. It's too quiet.”

“It's the calm before the storm.”

“Huh?”

“The squirrels are all gathered in the hollow trees, plotting their attack on us.”

“Oh, are we intruding on their territory?”

“Yes. They feel threatened.”

“How do we make them stop?”

“I don't think we can.”

“God, I want somebody else to talk to.”

“Then stop insisting on talking to me. Maybe you can talk to the wind, or the squirrels, or the voices in your head.”

“...”

“Shit!”

“What? What happened?”

“I lost the path!”

“What?”

“I lost the path! We're lost! I don't know where we are!”

“This is why I can't trust you!”

“This was a terrible idea … I haven't done this in years, and it's dark out … We're gonna have to wait until morning, to see if I recognize where we are.”

“Cas! I'm not waiting out the night in the middle of a horror movie!”

“...”

“Cas, don't do this.”

“...”

“Cas? I can't see a damn thing. Are you there? Is that you?”

“...”

screams

“Shit! Cas, where are you? What's going on?”

“...”

“Cas! Cas – I just – oh, god, you're an asshole.”

hysterical laughing

“You can't just do that!”

“Technically, I can.”

“Preying off my fear like that … it's unfair.”

“I wish I could see your face right now.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“Well, you can relax a little. I never lost the path.”

“I remember rather vividly why I hate you so much.”

“And I remember rather vividly why I enjoy messing with you so much.”

“Dude, I don't think you understand. Some things are okay. Kissing me to get revenge on some guy you hate even more than me is somewhat okay, I guess, although I would've liked a little warning. But pretending to lose the path in a dark forest at night only to do that whole side-grab thing from behind me is definitely not okay.”

“Would sorry help?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Great. Sorry.”

“Let's just get out of here.”

“...”

“...”

“You've got to admit, though, it was a great joke. You totally fell for it.”

“If it was under just about any other circumstances, I wouldn't have believed you for a second.”

“You already half believed something like that in your head. I just made it real for a few terrifying moments.”

“Thank you, o great giver of dreams.”

“Anything for my favorite assbutt.”

“I'm your only assbutt.”

“True, true.”

“Wait – are those lights? Are we almost out?”

“Yeah, we are. Just don't go too quickly.”

“Why not?”

“Because right near the end, there's this massive drop-off right beside the trail.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm not. Some kid, I think it was Davy Jones, fell down it. He broke his left arm and got a concussion. He wouldn't shut up about tentacles for a week.”

“Ooh. Kinky.”

“You're disgusting.”

“No, have you seen hentai? Ever?”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“Aren't you forgetting that I'm gay?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“I think they make gay hentai.”

“I've never been all that interested in hentai. My apologies.”

“Shut up.”

“...”

“Oh, dude, is that Subway?”

“Yes, dude, it is.”

“Holy … Wow. We actually made it.”

“Why didn't you trust me, Dean?”

“Because you're not exactly the most trustworthy person I know.”

“Aw, but you love me anyway.”

“...”

“What?”

“...”

“You're not serious.”

“Do it.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I liked it the first time, that's why.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, how can I resist a face like that?”

this is the part with all the making out and shit because they're desperately in love

spoiler alert: surprisingly, neither one of them goes home with the other until the weekend, when they do all kinds of sexy sex things with each other

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I actually got the idea for this fic from a dream I had. It was destiny. I had to write it. I intended it to be maybe a thousand words, but Dean and Cas wouldn't listen. They wanted to keep arguing.
> 
> I apologise for any confusion about who was talking at any given time. I mostly wrote this for myself, but I'm proud of anything I finish, no matter how short, so posting it was pretty much non-negotiable.
> 
> Oh, and please check out my tumblr, imnotscreaming.


End file.
